


Colorful Storm

by thats_they_them_to_you



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Platonic Relationships, Touch-Starved, funpoison, interpret it as either, platonic funpoison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thats_they_them_to_you/pseuds/thats_they_them_to_you
Summary: Killjoy life is a lot to get used to, vast and complicated compared to the controlled monotony of Battery City. New 'joy Party Poison revels in his new life, but isn't as well-adjusted as he thought.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Colorful Storm

Better Living Industries didn't approve of physical contact. The emotion such casual touches can convey is detrimental for the tidy, organized system that is Battery City and its people. Emotions are complicated. They warp relationships, causing unnecessary strife and stress. It's a better life without touch, and the messy emotions that accompany it.

Party Poison believed all this at one point. When he was in the city. Under the well-manicured thumb of BL/ind. Out in the desert, it was different. The vibrance of the Killjoy rebels encompassed everything about them, from clothing, to personality, to behavior. Including touch.

Out in the zones, touch had meaning. A bump to the shoulder signified the casual banter of friends. A hand on the back gave comfort from one Joy to another.

It was a whirlwind of communication that Party had never even thought possible. Touch didn't complicate or hinder the Killjoys' lives; it enhanced it. Touch was inseparable from the colorful storm of desperate zone rats.

It was one thing Party never got used to after escaping the city. He learned the meanings of many touches by observing, or, occasionally, experiencing, but he didn't take to Killjoy physicality the way he did to the colors. Cherry bomb red hair was no problem; a nudge from a friend was whole different story.

Briefly after Party's escape, the Kobra Kid had laid his hand on Party's shoulder and stoically assured him, "You're out now." The comment had been appreciated as the soon-to-be Party Poison stared blankly at the distant silhouette of Battery City. But what really broke through Party's numbness was the sharp, expanding pressure in his chest from Kobra's hand resting on his shoulder. He flinched away. Kobra didnt say anything about it, just pulled back his hand and led Party to the dusty, scratched up Trans Am.

Party didn't mark the incident as particularly important, especially among the haphazard chain of events that had led him to that moment, standing with a terrorist outside the city walls he had never dreamed beyond. Sensing Party needed something to do, Kobra let Party drive and directed him back to the rundown diner that the Kobra Kid, Fun Ghoul, and Jet Star called home. Soon enough Party was introduced to the two other Joys. Within 6 months, the Fabulous Killjoys became an inseparable force to be reckoned with.

After almost a year in the zones, Party Poison was well adjusted. He reveled in the growl of the Trans Am beneath him, the flashing whirl of colors displayed by every Killjoy, and the overwhelming comfort of having a team to rely on.

There was only one hitch. Every casual touch gave Party the same heart-stabbing feeling that Kobra's first contact had prompted. Party had merely learned to control his flinching. Initially, he attributed his odd reactions to the plethora of withdrawal symptoms from his lack of BL/ind pills. But after a year, the same old excuse was wearing thin.

Any human contact prompted a feeling that verged on pain while the aftermath of such incidents were defined by a deep itch that settled beneath his skin. Party never initiated physical contact, so he was surprised at the yearning he felt when Jet offered a hug to Ghoul after a long day. Naturally, Party buried the feeling rather than face his mounting confusion. Despite his fierce denial, the itch was persistent, occassionally fading to a dull buzzing, but never disappearing.

It took a particularly bad day for Party to finally break. He was sitting next to Ghoul after a long day of supply runs and a particularly nasty clap with a Draculoid patrol. The two Killjoys weren't speaking, simply enjoying each other's presence. With harmless intentions, Ghoul reached out to steady Party, who began to sway from exhaustion. The touch of Ghoul's supporting arm sent a lightning bolt through Party, yet he melted into the touch. He quickly yanked himself upright, and his panicked eyes met Ghoul's surprised face. Surprise transformed into confusion, then concern.

"Party? You all right?" Ghoul hesitated before asking.

"Y- yeah," Party replied, avoiding Ghoul's gaze.

Unconvinced, Ghoul slowly stood. He pulled Party up from his seat. Party finally dragged his eyes up to Ghoul's face, just in time for Ghoul to wrap his arms around Party in a tight hug. Party's arms froze in surprise, but then returned Ghoul's forceful embrace. He inhaled into Ghoul's shoulder, taking his first free breath since coming to the desert.

A tear rolled down Party's cheek as Ghoul whispered, "Shh, It's alright. I got you."


End file.
